


I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

by fictive_frolic



Series: Bruce Banner One Shots [1]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Eve, Dad!Bruce, Domestic Bliss, F/M, Fluff, One Shot, santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:41:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21823078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictive_frolic/pseuds/fictive_frolic
Summary: When Bruce's son catches Mommy kissing Santa Claus, how will Bruce keep him from finding out the truth?
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Reader
Series: Bruce Banner One Shots [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1572535
Kudos: 25





	I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

You’d been in the kitchen, kneading dough for cinnamon rolls in the morning. Intent on keeping to tradition and having a homemade pastry for Christmas morning. You’d come back to find your husband of Seven years dressed as the man himself. Complete with snow-white beard and heavy black boots.

“Bruce,” you whisper, giggling, “What are you doing?” 

“Buying an extra year believing in Santa,” he murmured, inclining his head towards the landing where your son sat waiting for Santa. You press your lips together to keep from laughing and walk into the living room, proffering a cup of cocoa.

“Cocoa, Santa?” you ask, a teasing smile tugging at your lips.

Bruce took the mug and smiled, making sure to face you and not the stairs, even though the beard hid most of his face, “Thank you, Ma’am,” he rumbled. “Has Riley been a good boy this year?” he continued.

“He tries,” you say beaming. 

“Huh,” Bruce teases, “He couldn’t have learned that anywhere.”

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about, Santa,” you pout.

Giggles and scampering feet on the stairs make you smile, Above your head, the sound of Riley leaping into his bed makes Bruce look up at the ceiling before setting his mug down and pull you closer. “I’m sure you do, Mrs. Banner,” he rumbles as he dips you back to kiss you softly. You giggle and wrap your arms around his neck, tugging the beard out of the way and kissing him back, eager and hungry. 

Bruce can’t say no to you. He’s never known how. He hadn’t wanted a wife. Or a baby. But now that he had those things, he wasn’t going to let them down. Even though his son was six. Six and very smart. He knew Riley was putting pieces together. Some kid at school was bound to tell him before too long. He hated that. And he knew it was going to break your heart when it happened. 

“You know,” he teased, tugging you into his lap, “We could have another baby and then you could get to do all this longer.”

“I thought that after Riley you didn’t want another,” you snort, “Especially not after you fainted when he came out.”

“But I know what to expect this time,” he says, patting the swell of your bottom lovingly, “And I know you want a girl.”

“I really do,” you sigh, nuzzling his neck.

Bruce chuckles and kisses you softly, “Hold that thought,” he rumbles, eyes warm, “I’d better get out of this before Riley catches Santa going down on mommy.”

You snort and wiggle off his lap, “You get changed and Check on our resident skeptic,” you tell him, “I’ll get our Christmas Juice and get the cinnamon rolls cut.”

“I thought we weren’t doing Christmas juice after last year’s hangover,” Bruce snorted.

“Shh,” you tell him, “It’s fine. It’s all fine. You’ll just have to help me drink it instead of letting me have the whole bottle.”

Bruce shook his head and slipped into the downstairs bathroom to change. He stashed the suit he bought in the duffle bag to hide in the hall closet until he could sneak it up to the attic again. That done, he slipped upstairs to check on his son. Riley Alexander Banner. His pride and joy. He peeked into the bedroom, smiling softly. He’d told Bruce about the plot to catch Santa when Bruce walked him in off the school bus. A big kid had told him Santa wasn’t real and Riley, bless him, had reached the only logical conclusion he could. He needed proof.

It was clear he still wasn’t asleep. He was wide awake. Excited for in the morning. For presents and aunts and uncles. For cinnamon rolls. “Go to sleep, Riley,” he chuckled.

“Dad,” he said, sitting up, rubbing his eyes, “You woke me up.”

“Mhmm, is that why your door closed just a second ago?”

Dad?” he said in a smaller voice.

“What is it buddy?” he asked, coming to sit on the bed, holding out his arms. 

“I caught Santa,” he said wide eyed.

“You did?” Bruce said beaming, “then why aren’t you celebrating?”

“I caught Santa kissing Mommy,” he whispered.

Internally Bruce smacked himself in the forehead and he smiled, “Buddy,” he soothed, “It’s okay.”

Riley still looked uncertain and Bruce chuckled, “Mommy’s known Santa a long time,” he said, “It’s like when Uncle Thor gets excited and kisses people. Remember the last time he came to visit and Mommy made him brownies?”

Riley giggled. Uncle Thor had pulled you off your feet and kissed you, forgetting for a moment that that’s not what casual affection looked like with married women on Earth.

“Then why was she sitting on his lap?” Riley asked.

“Well, how else do you tell Santa what you want for Christmas?” Bruce countered, ruffling his hair. 

“Dad,” he started.

“Mommy’s been a good girl this year,” Bruce reasoned, “She takes good care of us all year long. Santa wanted to give her something special.” Riley opened his mouth to protest and Bruce kissed his head, “I promise, buddy. It’s fine. I was standing in the kitchen the whole time.”

“You were?”

Bruce nodded and breathed an internal sigh of relief when Riley flopped back on his bed to be tucked back in. “What’d Santa bring?” he asked yawning.

“Spoilers,” Bruce scolded affectionately. 

Riley pouted and Bruce tucked blankets around him, “Go to sleep, booger,” he said, covering his face in kisses until he giggled.

“Night, dad,” he said, snuggling into his blanket.

“Night, Buddy.”

_________

Bruce stops in the kitchen door and watches you for a moment, “You’re lucky,” he rumbled, wrapping his arms around you.

“What’d I do?” you ask confused.

“Got busted makin’ out with Santa,” he chuckled, searching for the hem of your shirt with his fingers.

“Oh no,” you groan, “What’d you tell him?”

“Not the truth, obviously,” he chuckled, “I told him Santa has the same social skills as Uncle Thor. And also that you were sitting on Santa’s lap to tell him what you wanted for Christmas.” His fingers graze your belly as he starts nibbling your neck tenderly and you giggle.

“Bruce!” you protest.

“But it’s Christmas,” he pouts, “And I’ve been a good boy.” He turns you roughly to face him with a soft growl that’s more Hulk than Bruce and your cheeks color.

“Bruce, you murmur again, more breathless and less protest as he kisses you hard, groaning against your lips as your nails trail over his neck, scratching lightly.

“Minx,” he chuckles, his hand slipping into the waist of your Pajama bottoms.

“You keep pushing buttons,” you murmur.

“Can’t help it,” he rumbles, “Wanna put a baby in you now… I miss seeing you getting all round and soft. I loved that belly.”

You look up at him and smile softly. His eyes are so sweet. The way he looks at you when he feels vulnerable. You know that he means it. He’s a devoted father. He has been form the moment you got the first positive test. He doesn’t mean to give you puppy dog eyes, but you melt anyway. 

“You know I can’t say no to you when you look at me like that,” you tell him, pouting.

“C’mon,” he growled, smirking, “Let’s get you wine drunk and get you pregnant.” The timbre of his voice tells you Hulk wholeheartedly agrees with this plan as he throws you over his shoulder, smacking you on the bottom as you giggle.

“Bruce!” you gasp.

“What?” he teased, “Do I need to go get the suit back out, Mrs. Claus?”


End file.
